When It Rains
by nicnac918
Summary: Real life ensues, and things get more (and less) complicated. Sequel to AA: Amnesiacs not so Anonymous Pre-Clex


For as long as Lex could remember, which, admittedly, wasn't very long, he has had an inexplicable hatred of the saying "When it rains, it pours." Inexplicable until now, that was, because it was becoming increasingly apparent that the hatred was stemming from a subconscious recollection that this saying was the prefect descriptor for his life. The final nail in that particular coffin was when, not half an hour after Lex arrived home to find Conner waiting to engage Lex in his second disturbingly revealing conversation in less than a week – third in less than two – Clark called.

"Lex Luth-"

"You promised no more clothes stealing!" Clark exclaimed before Lex could even finish his salutation.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," Lex said, which was true. And there was no way that Lex _wouldn't_ remember it if he had ordered Clark's wardrobe replaced again; picking out the replacement clothes had been too much fun to forget a repeat performance.

"Then why did I come home to find Hope rummaging through my dresser?"

"Because Hope was less likely than Mercy to break anything?" Lex suggested, stalling as he tried to remember why Hope would have been sent to Clark's apartment. And again, it's not like it wasn't _true_, Mercy could get past high tech security systems that Hope could only dream of breaking into, but when it came to the stealthy "leave everything just as you found it" skill set, Mercy often left something to be desired.

"That's not what I was asking and you know it," Clark said.

"Well if you must know" – God, Conner's sniggering in the background was not helping… oh, right, Conner's jeans – "Conner mentioned that you never returned those jeans you borrowed from him and I offered to get them back for him, since the whole affair could be construed as my fault." It could also be construed as Clark's fault for wearing such god awful clothing, but Lex suspected that he was the only one who saw it that way.

It wasn't until this point, much _after_ Lex had finished talking that he realized that Conner had been shaking his head fairly fervently and that maybe Clark wasn't supposed to know that Conner was at the penthouse with Lex.

"Man, I keep forgetting – wait Conner mentioned? As in you talked to him?"

"That does sound more likely than the alternative where he and I became pen pals," Lex noted dryly. Clark was not amused.

"Crap. Is he still there? Of course he is; you wouldn't have sent Hope to get his pants if he had left already. Crap. Okay, you guys just sit tight and I'll be there in a couple of minutes."

"That's really not necessary-" Lex began.

"Lex," Clark interrupted his voice an extremely firm "you're going to do as I say" tone. "I'm going to get changed, and I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Fine," Lex said in as apathetic tone as possible to try to cover the fact that he was panicking, just a little bit, at the thought of having to bluff his way through yet another conversation he wasn't prepared for. "Bring Conner's jeans with you." And then Lex hung up, before Clark could say anything else.

Shit.

* * *

Lex was momentarily taken aback when security called up two minutes later telling him a Mr. Kent wants to come up to see him, as he had just assumed that Clark would superpower his way in like Conner had, but even as he was giving security the all-clear, he realized that Clark's method of entry is probably the better one. On the off-chance that anyone did notice Superman flying into Lex Luthor's penthouse, it was bound to make the news. But there was no reason for anyone to assume that, of all the various and sundry locations in the building, Clark was headed to Lex's penthouse, and the security people knew better than to gossip.

It also gave Lex and Conner an extra minute to make certain that all the files they had pulled out to peruse were safely put away, and for Lex to assume an air of cool confidence. The same could not be said for Conner though; the poor boy's anxiety seemed to increase with every passing second. Lex wasn't entirely sure how he felt about his… co-parent, Lex supposed, even if Conner had been almost unduly adamant about classifying himself and Clark as brothers, inspiring fear in their offspring, but the fair thing would most likely be to wait and see how the two interacted before he made a final judgment on that front. After all, the guy who had apparently been cutting up clone-sons for spare parts _probably_ wasn't in a position to be casting stones.

Five minutes after the initial call from security – twice as long as the previous portion of the trip, and Lex really had been meaning to get _someone_ to do _something_ about the slowness of the elevator, but it kept slipping through the cracks somehow – there was a knock on the door.

"Clark," Lex said smoothly, his mask perfectly in place. "Good to see you."

Lex's greeting only got the barest nod in acknowledgement before a harried looking Clark asked, "Where's Conner?"

Lex blinked, the only sign that he still wasn't entirely used to how abrupt Clark was now that he thought Lex remembered him, as opposed to his former bumbling reporter persona. "He's in the entertainment room; this way."

When they entered the room where Conner was waiting, he had finally managed to affect a causal air, only to have it crumble to pieces at his first sight of Clark. Lex looked over his shoulder at the other man, half-expecting him to be shooting daggers at Conner. But no, while Clark didn't look anything like pleased, he didn't look especially angry either. Firm, would likely be the best way to describe it, but Conner still looked like he was two steps short of terrified. Lex wondered if that was just a Clark thing, or even just a Clark-Conner thing, or if Clark might be able to teach Lex how to do it. Not that Lex didn't have his own fear-cultivating techniques, but one could never have too many different ways to terrify people.

"Conner," Clark said in a firm tone that matched his countenance, and that, apparently, was that.

"I'm sorry Da-Clark! I know you said not to visit Lex until after you said it was okay, but I just wanted to see him and maybe talk to him a bit. Because Chloe and Lois and Martha and Oliver are always going on about how Lex used to be, and I know you said not to worry about it, but I do and I just wanted to know. Plus he didn't try to hurt you or anything when you confronted him about getting his memories back so I figured it was probably safe. Please don't be mad!"

Clark sighed, much more world-weary than anyone in their mid-twenties had any right to be, and ran a hand through his hair. Lex watched the whole by-play between the two with interest; like brothers, his amnesiac ass. (And Lex absolutely was not even the slightest bit jealous of the way Conner had almost called Clark Dad. Probably.)

"I'm not mad at you," said Clark.

"Really?" asked Conner, hopeful.

"Okay, I'm a little mad at you. I need to know you're going to listen to me when I tell you to do something, or _not_ to do something. But I think this might be partially my fault too. I wasn't as clear with you about why I didn't want you talking to Lex as I could have been, and I really should know better than anyone that telling you that I 'don't want you hanging around that Luthor' isn't going to be particularly effective." Clark gave Lex an aside grin at that and Lex, crossing his fingers that it was the appropriate response, returned it. Clark's grin grew, pleased that Lex had appeared to share in the joke with him, whatever the hell it was, before turning back to Conner, who was looking noticeably more relaxed at the sight of his father… brother… whichever smiling.

"I wasn't worried that Lex was going to try and hurt you or anything like that." Well, good to know that that whole "killing his clones" thing wasn't going to be held against him. "It's just... there's certain things about your… origins that Lex doesn't know about, and I wanted to be able to talk him through it before the two of you met." He said this with a meaningful look at the S emblem on Conner's shirt that would have had Lex guessing at Conner's big "secret" even if he hadn't already known. Clearly, subtlety was not Clark's strong-suit.

"But that doesn't make sense; why wouldn't he-" Conner protested before suddenly cutting himself off, eyes wide. Thus proving that subtlety wasn't Conner's strong-suit either. Ah well, at least he had inherited Lex's good-looks (not that there was any risk of him going wrong no matter which parent he took after on that particular front).

"Why wouldn't he what?" Clark asked, voice full of confusion and suspicion.

"No never mind, it's nothing," Conner insisted, completely unconvincingly. Lex was going to have to work with him on that one.

"Conner Kent," Clark barked. "What aren't you telling me?"

Conner winced, but resolutely didn't say anything. Lex sighed internally. It was fairly obvious that Conner wasn't going to be able to keep Lex's continued memory loss a secret from Clark for long. At this point it seemed like the best thing for Lex to do was just come clean so that Clark would direct his anger at Lex rather than Conner. That was the kind of thing that parents did for their children, right?

"I think what Conner is trying to get at," Lex said, causing the other two's attention to snap to him, "is if I really had gotten my memories back, he would expect me to know all about his biological relation to you."

"You know?" Clark said astonished, and then the _other_ thing that Lex had said seemed to sink in. "Wait, what do you mean '_if_ you really had gotten your memories back?'"

"What does it sound like it means?" Lex replied.

"So you don't really have your memories back? You lied to me?"

"No," Lex corrected, "I never said a thing about recalling my lost memories; you're the one who jumped to conclusions."

"Not saying anything that isn't factually inaccurate is not the same thing as not lying. I can't believe this! Why did you steal my clothes if you had no clue who I was?"

"Have you seen your wardrobe? It needed to be done."

"'_Needed to be done?_' God, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"STOP IT!" At some point during their argument, Conner had gotten up off the couch and was now standing, fists clenched at his sides and eye over-bright with – shit – tears.

"It's not his fault! He had to pretend like he had his memory back because when he forgot you guys were all just ignoring him and he thought he had no friends and no one wanted him and..." the tears spilled down his cheeks and, literally faster than Lex could see, Clark crossed the room and enfolded Conner in his arms.

"Shh, shh, it's alright." Conner was sobbing in earnest now, and clutching tight onto Clark, who was rubbing soothing circles on his back. Lex watched, feeling a bit awkward and very much as though he should do _something_, but not sure what that would be.

Luckily the fit of emotion seemed to pass quickly, if not quite as quickly as it came on, and it was only a few minutes later that Conner had calmed himself down to intermittent sniffles into Clark's shirt.

"Conner," Clark said, "you know I love you, right?" Conner didn't reply, save to pull into the embrace even tighter and make a few aborted motions with his head that looked as though he was trying to burrow into Clark's chest.

"I love you," Clark repeated, "and I want you, and we're family. That's all that's important; everything else is just details, okay?"

Conner muttered something, unintelligible due to the fact his face was still pressed into Clark, but Clark, be it through proximity or super-hearing, appeared to understand it. "I don't know," he said, shooting a quick look at Lex. "We'll see."

Conner said something else, more insistent and Clark sighed. "I'm just not sure-"

"No," said Conner, pulling back a bit, but still not quite relinquishing his hold on Clark yet. "You have to. Or try at least, promise you'll try."

"I promise I'll try," Clark repeated dutifully, before continuing, "but I can't guarantee anything else. Okay?"

"Okay," Conner agreed. He finally pulled out of Clark's arms, trying to wipe the tear-tracks off his face. "I'll… I think I'm going to go to the bathroom."

"That's probably a good idea. And then maybe grab yourself a snack?" Clark said directing a questioning look at Lex; presumably to make sure it was okay he was volunteering someone else's pantry for teenaged raiding.

"I wish you luck on that venture." Lex said. "I'm fairly certain Cook deliberately arranges things in the most confusing manner possible so I won't attempt to inflict my cooking on her kitchen."

Conner snickered a bit, leaving Lex relieved that he had been able to do at least a little something after all. "Okay, thanks."

"Sorry about dragging you into all this," Clark said once Conner had left, armed with directions to the nearest bathroom and the kitchen.

"He's my son too," Lex pointed out.

Clark cocked his head to the side a bit, looking confused. "Really? Just like that, no questions asked?"

Lex frowned. Conner was a human- well, sentient living being, that had come, in part, from Lex's DNA. What other questions were there to ask? "Of course."

Clark seemed to relax somewhat at Lex's reply. "Do you think you could find a way to mention that to Conner? He's, uh… kind of adopted you, I guess, and I think it would help out some of his self-confidence issues."

Taking a bit of a stab in the dark, Lex asked, "Do those issues have anything to do with the way he was insisting that the two of you were brothers, rather than father-son?"

"Oh, yeah, that's my fault," Clark said, looking embarrassed. He plopped down on the sofa and gave Lex a sheepish grin.

Doing his best to look sympathetic, Lex sat down on the chair next to him. "What happened?"

Clark grimaced a bit. "It's long story and a lot of little things mostly, but what it comes down to is, more or less, a misunderstanding on my part. Because Conner looks like a teenager, and he acts like one most of the time, so when we were first getting to know each other I treated him like he was one, like my little brother. But the truth is, he's not. He's… I guess about two now, I've never been too clear on the exact dates on everything. And don't ask me how exactly that came about because I've never been too clear on _that_ either. Something about clones aging at an enhanced rate, but then my genetic material kicked in and stabilized him, or thereabouts. The point being, that's why he sometimes has little outburst like earlier, and that's why he really needed me to be father-figure, not a big brother. I just didn't understand that until too late and now he's too afraid to ask for it because he thinks it's not what I want, and I can't offer because my life is too much of a mess right now for me to really be there in the way he needs. Oh, and having him go move in with Mom when Lois and I moved to Metropolis really didn't help anything."

When he finished his little monologue Clark finally looked up from addressing his hands to look at Lex. He let out a low chuckle that really would have been quite an attractive sound, if Lex hadn't got the distinct impression that Clark was laughing at him.

"What?" Lex demanded.

Clark shook his head. "No, it's nothing. Just your face…"

"What about my face?"

"No, no, not like that. Um… you know that we used to be friends back when I was in high school, right?" Clark said, a questioning lilt to his voice. Lex nodded. "Back then, when the teenaged angst got to be too much, sometimes I'd go over to your place and… whine at you, basically. And you always had the same expression on your face, same one you do now, like you were really interested in my problems and genuinely didn't have anything better to do than listen to me complain about high school drama. It was nice," Clark concluded with a wistful smile.

"Well," Lex said, "my plans for the evening" – studying up on his and Clark's mutual past so as to be able to continue to fool Clark into thinking that Lex had gotten his memories back – "are pretty much shot, so feel free to whine away."

Clark grinned. "Really? Are you sure you can handle that?"

"Your life can hardly be worse than mine," Lex pointed out.

"Alright, challenge accepted," Clark said, laughing. "Let's see. There's all the stuff with Conner that I already mentioned. Two of my closest, and only, friends moved to Star City a year ago and I haven't really made any new ones since then. Not one of my work colleagues has thought to question my sudden transformation from confident and affable to meek and bumbling, though they're more than happy to take advantage of it to push me around. I don't know _what's_ going on with my mom lately, or at least, not other than the fact that she's dating my boss, and she's still pissed at me for selling the family farm and for asking her to take care of Conner – not that she doesn't like Conner, she just really wasn't looking to be the mother again at this point in her life. Oh, and I think Lois and I are going to break up."

"Lois Lane?" Lex asked. Were the two of them dating?

"Mmmm," agreed Clark. "She's my fiancée."

Well shit. Lex knew staring those files at the chronological beginning and working his way forward in time had been a bad idea. So much for his "Clark having like, a freaking hard-on for the redemption thing" related plans. Although…

"But you don't think it's going to work out?"

"Don't get me wrong, I love Lois. She's _amazing_ and I really don't know what I'm going to do if we don't work out, but… she's honestly not ready to be a mom, and I have to put Conner first."

"And she resents you for that," Lex surmised.

"_God_ no," Clark said emphatically. "Hell, given some of the stuff that went on in her past, she's probably more proud of me for making that choice than anything else. It's just not what she wants, you know? We've been trying to make it work regardless, but I'm starting to think it won't."

"I'm sorry," Lex offered, and, somewhat surprisingly, it was actually true. At least there was an unpleasant sensation in his gut that told him a sad Clark Kent was a Bad Thing.

Clark shrugged. "That's just how life goes sometimes. Anyways, it's your turn now."

"My turn?" Lex asked.

"You said my life couldn't be any worse than yours," Clark reminded him. "So prove it."

Lex was saved from having to answer when Conner bounced back in the room, once again looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. "Man, your kitchen is a _maze_. How does your cook find anything in there?"

"I really don't have a clue," Lex responded.

"Sooooo," Conner said, "since I wasn't able to find any food in the kitchen, maybe we could order some pizza instead?"

Clark opened his mouth to respond, then, visibly changing his mind, turned to Lex. "It's up to you."

Lex made a point of appearing to think it over, laughing inwardly at the way Conner was literally vibrating a little – with any luck it wouldn't damage the carpet – in hopeful anticipation. "Two conditions. First, no onions on mine, and, second, Conner has to pick out a movie for us to watch while we eat."

"Deal!" Conner cried before practically launching himself at the shelves of movies framing the TV.

It was just as well that he hadn't had a chance to respond to Clark, Lex thought as Clark mouthed a silent "thank you" at him. After all, Lex's life was really starting to look up.

* * *

Sequel is "Intermission: And Visions of Sugarplums Dance in His Head" (Story ID: 8677998)


End file.
